


Double fault

by Rosetylars



Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: ATP cup, Angst, Dramatic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sascha is dramatic and Stef is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosetylars/pseuds/Rosetylars
Summary: Sascha’s serve is a mess and Stef tries to help him get through the frustration. Set post Sascha’s match against Stef.
Relationships: Stefanos Tsitsipas/Alexander Zverev
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Double fault

Sascha was totally and utterly broken. His serve, his weapon, the crutch of his game, had totally deserted him. His match against De Minaur was tough - he had been in control, a set and a break up, when the home favourite fought back like he always does, and managed to seal the victory. Sascha had been serving double faults more consistently than strong first serves. 

He always dreaded playing Stef because he couldn’t reconcile his fierce love for his boyfriend with his desire and passion to win. The rankings declared that he was the favourite, and the extra pressure to perform was weighing him down. 

The match was a disaster. His reliable serve was nowhere to be found, and his frustration got the better of him. In a few regrettable moments, he swore fiercely at his father in Russian. When he saw his dad on the big screen, face red, tears in his eyes, he felt like more of a failure than he ever had before. 

Each time Stef’s loving eyes met his over the net, full of concern for him, he nearly broke down right there on the court. 

After Stef won convincingly in straight sets, Sascha managed to hold it together until he was alone within the privacy of the locker room. 

He punched one of the metal lockers forcefully, wanting to turn the emotional pain into physical, just to feel something that wasn’t just failure, failure, failure. His hit left a sizeable dent in the door, and the guilt of that just added to his misery. 

After a few moments, the adrenaline of the moment wore off, and the pain in his hand started to flare up. He looked down and saw that the skin on three of his knuckles had been busted, and blood was beginning to drip down the back of his hand and between his fingers. 

He swore softly to himself, furious he’d put himself in this situation. It was his playing hand, too. How could he be so stupid? Suddenly exhausted, he crumpled to the ground and dropped his head with shame, nursing his injured hand. 

He must have stayed like that for a while, because before he knew it, he was no longer alone in the locker room.

“Oh my god, Sash,” Stefanos exclaimed at the sight of his bloodied boyfriend. Stef walked over to crouch down in front of him. 

Sascha looked up and grimaced. He wasn’t ready to talk yet. “Not now, Stefanos, just leave me on my own,” he grumbled. 

Eyes wide, Stef ignored Sascha’s wishes. “No Sascha, you’re bleeding, show me your hand,” he instructed softly. 

Doing as he was told, Sascha raised his injured hand between them. Stef took it in both of his own. The blood had formed rivers down Sascha’s forearm. “Did you punch something?” The question was without judgement, only full of concern. 

He nodded minutely. 

“Okay, do you want someone to patch this up? The cuts look shallow, but we don’t want them to get infected,” Stef said. He managed to keep his voice calm despite the shake in his hands at the sight of Sascha’s blood and misery. 

Sascha grimaced. “My team can’t know, not right now, I-“

Stef hushed Sascha’s fretting gently. “How about Fred? He won’t tell if you don’t want him to. He’s coming to find me in a minute anyway,” he reasoned. 

Sascha didn’t want anyone to see him at his weakest, but Stef was right. It would be best to at least bandage the cuts. “Okay,” Sascha agreed quietly. 

Stef helped him to his feet by lifting him by his good hand. As he turned to the doorway to find Fred, he noticed the huge dent in the locker. 

“Ah, I see your adversary didn’t fight back very hard,” Stef said in an attempt at humour. 

Sascha didn’t laugh, but he did huff an exhale through his nose. 

Fred was just outside the locker room door. He was surprised to see Sascha lurking behind Stef. 

“Everything okay?” Fred asked. 

“Actually, can you help with something discreetly?” Stef asked with a grimace. Sascha was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, trying to hide his bad hand. 

“Of course, what’s wrong?” he asked. 

Stef looked at Sascha to explain. He gave an uncomfortable grunt. “Uh, I fucked up my hand,” he mumbled. “And my team can’t know.”

Fred took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go somewhere private. What’s wrong with it?”

“Think it’s fine, just bleeding,” Sascha mumbled. 

They walked to the other end of the hallway where the players’ treatment rooms were, and they went inside one with a lockable door for more private treatments. 

“Okay, can I see it?” Fred asked once the three of them were inside. 

Sascha sat up on the treatment table, and held his hand out in front of him. Some of the original blood had dried, but every time Sascha moved his hand, more fresh blood leaked out of his split knuckles. 

“My god,” Fred exclaimed. “You punch something?” 

Sascha nodded, embarrassed. 

“Do your bones feel okay? Can you make a fist?” Fred asked. 

Sascha was able to close his hand into a fist and open it with all his fingers straight. He could still move his fingers fine, the only problem was the blood. 

“Okay, you’re lucky it’s only your skin. If you’re able to hide the cuts you should be fine,” Fred explained. 

He began to clean away all of the blood, and Stef’s stomach turned seeing cotton pad after cotton pad come away red after touching Sascha’s skin. 

There was a lot of blood to clean up, but once it was gone, his hand looked a lot better. He was left with just the three split knuckles, which Fred covered with bandages. 

“Okay, you should be fine now. If someone asks, you could say you slipped in the shower and grazed your hand,” Fred suggested. 

Sascha sighed with relief, and almost smiled. Almost. “Thanks, Fred, you’ve saved me from a lot of trouble,” Sascha admitted. 

“No worries, glad you’re okay now,” Fred replied. “Stef, we can go through your cool down in a half hour if you want some time?” He looked between the two of them pointedly. 

“Thank you,” Stef smiled at him, and Fred left, leaving them alone in the treatment room. 

Stef walked over to the door and locked it, causing Sascha to quirk an eyebrow. 

“Can we talk about this?” Stef gestured to Sascha’s damaged hand. 

Sascha bristled. “There’s nothing to talk about. I was frustrated, I hit the locker, and now I’ve cut my hand. It’s all fine,” he insisted. 

“It’s not fine,” Stef said, walking over to stand between Sascha’s knees where he still sat on the table. Stef took Sascha’s bad hand between his own. “Is it... did I upset you?” Stef asked uncomfortably. 

Sascha shook his head. “It’s not just the result. Even though I hate playing you anyway because I always want you to win all your matches,” he huffed a wry laugh. 

Stef frowned at that. “Then what is it?”

“My serve is fucked and I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t shake it,” Sascha scrubbed a tired hand over his eyes. “There’s so much pressure, I feel like I haven’t even had a break after last season and now I have another whole season ahead of me.”

Stef took one of his hands away from Sascha’s, and instead placed it on Sascha’s cheek. “I understand what you’re saying,” he said gently, “but you can’t play the whole season tonight. You can only take things step by step,” Stef reasoned. 

“Maybe I should quit,” Sascha declared suddenly. His eyes were stormy. 

“Sascha, you don’t mean that,” Stef said carefully. 

Sascha shrugged. “It’s just not working for me. Maybe I could be your trophy husband,” he added lightly. 

“You want to marry me?” Stef raised his eyebrows.

Sascha shrugged. “Not today, Stef, I’m not dressed for the occasion.”

Stef did laugh, at that. “Okay, we can worry about that later. For now, you need to take your mind off the... problems,” Stef struggled for words. 

“How do you suggest I do that?” Sascha asked suggestively, moistening his lips with his tongue. 

“I have a few ideas,” Stef ran his hand through Sascha’s hair, and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“That door still locked?” Sascha asked against Stef’s lips. 

“Mhm,” Stef breathed, deepening the kiss and helping Sascha forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hadn’t written about this pairing in a long time, so hopefully it’s still enjoyable! Feel free to let me know what you think! 💕


End file.
